Different Kinds of Love
by SyriMoon
Summary: Cassian knew what Alexis did to Jezabel, he just didn't know how deeply it had broken Jezabel, or how much he would hurt for the boy he's trying to look after. Aromantic-Asexual Jezabel, Papa Cassian


Jezabel didn't bother trying to button his shirt back up, let alone struggle with his waistcoat or tie. He simply bundled the extra items up in his crossed arms, pinning his shirt tightly around him and praying he could just make a quick, quiet exit back to his room. Silently hoped the door behind him would close with a satisfying latch, and he would have a small glimmer of freedom for the night.

His prayers though, as always, went unanswered as he heard Alexis's footsteps behind him.

"Jezabel," he purred at the doorway, "be sure to wake early tomorrow. I want those reports on my desk by noon, understood?"

Jezabel didn't turn around as he was spoken to, but he nodded silently, still trying to slip away, but Alexis seemed reluctant to let him go so quickly.

"Or," he offered with a definite grin to his voice, "If you're too tired, you could just spend the rest of the night with me and sleep in instead."

The doctor scowled to himself behind a curtain of heavily greyed blonde hair, still tussled and damp. That was a cruel proposition to offer him. Another hour up with the Cardmaster in exchange for being able to sleep as late as he wished…if he could sleep at all, that is.

"…No, thank you," he declined after a moment. The hallway was cold, and he ached, and just wanted to sink into a baht hot enough to scald the skin from his bones. "I'll have my work done first thing in the morning…Goodnight."

He felt Alexis try to reach out to stroke his hair, but he didn't stay for it, not for that small morsel of sweet affection. He knew it was another cruel ploy, another trick to play to convince Jezabel to stay another night in his father's bed.

)o(

The fires crackled invitingly, one in his bedroom, one in the bath through his dressing room. He'd turned the tap on full blast, not caring what sort of mood the hot water pipes were in tonight. He didn't mind the thought of a burning hot bath…it sounded inviting, even. Pain prickling his skin to distract from the pain everywhere else.

His vest and tie already discarded on the floor, he pulled his suspenders down, wincing as they brushed over the deep bruises forming on his arms…he'd fought. How stupid of him, he thought in shame. He pulled his trousers off, and drawers, and finally his shirt, leaving them all to pick up later…and he avoided the mirror. He didn't want to see the hideous face his father called beautiful, the fact that once belonged to his mother. Instead he focused on the surface of the water, something that WAS lovely, a heavy rise of steam wafting from the gently waving surface.

Jezabel hissed when he stepped in, from the heat, but welcomed it. It wouldn't burn permanently. He sat, wincing as he did so, and let the water lap over his legs, his heavily scarred back, and felt his long hair grow heavy with saturation...he leaned back, took a lungful of air, and went under.

And finally, Jezabel felt he could breathe. There, under the water, hearing his pulse thrum madly in his ears and little else, he felt free. He did this every night, making sure every part of himself was submerged in his large tub, every gray tendril of hair, every toe. It was isolating, a solid, actual barrier to separate him from Father…from…from Cassandra, from the men father threatened to sell him to…

A trickle of water escaped the tap to drip into the tub. Jezabel always thought that, underwater, the splashing sounded like diamonds, as silly as he thought that sounded. That was just the image he saw; pale pink, crystalline shards, sharp as glass but never cutting him, never drawing blood. Something beautiful, that wouldn't hurt him…

He wasn't alone as he broke the surface of the water. As he drew in a deep breath, he saw that midget assistant of his let go of one he's obviously just gasped in.

"God DAMN it Jezabel, I thought you were fucking drowning yourself!" He snapped, and Jezabel just rolled his eyes, reclining back in his bath.

"What are you doing here, Cassian?" he sighed irritably. He wasn't in a mood for company, but Cassian was like a virus; he wouldn't EVER leave, no matter what you did to suppress him.

"I knocked," he shrugged, as though that was an answer. "And you didn't answer so I just let myself in. And good thing too, since you were about to drown yourself."

Jezabel snorted. "If I wanted to kill myself, I have far more efficient methods of it in my cabinet."

Cassian stared evenly at his superior, but said nothing, only scampered up on a tall chair near the doorway to the dressing room.

"You're up late again. It's past midnight," he remarked. "Don't we have to pretend to be functioning members of society tomorrow night at that party for whatshisface?"

Jezabel nodded. "I believe you're supposed to be my son tomorrow, with myself as a poor widower, if anyone asks." Cain was supposed to be there, and ordinarily Jezabel would be busy concocting his act, pretending to be Dr. Holloway or Derek Shroder or Mr. Adam Finch or whoever he was playacting as to get in the door this time, but he was tired tonight. He'd deal tomorrow…

"Your bathwater's pink."

Jezabel looked oddly at Cassian for a moment, then down…oh. It was…that was normal though. Many nights his bath ran tinged with his own blood, from whippings or beatings or…anything else.

…He drew his knees up in the bath, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with having Cassian there…yet at the same time not wanting him to go.

There he was, just sitting there, like he was chaperoning, the little arse. That was so like him, constantly glueing himself to Jezabel's side whenever he could, following him around, stalking him nearly! It was annoying and yet…

He felt his face go as pink as the water. And yet he somehow didn't mind as much as he thought he would. He was chatty, and sometimes it was nice having something to break the silence. Even when he spoke nothing but critiques on Jezabel's thinness, or his bruises, it was somehow so different than anyone else. When Cassandra would remark on such things, it was to say such things were beautiful, that Jezabel was so small and delicate and…!

…but Cassian seemed appalled, browbeating Jezabel to eat more, to get to bed, to just STOP working, to stop obsessing…

Yet he didn't mind so much. Until recently, that is. Until Father…

He dipped his cold hair back into the water again. It…wasn't as though Father had never had never….asked for him to warm his bed before. He had, plenty of times, since he was in his teens, but lately it seemed as though it had…picked up. As though it was happening more often. And then with Cassandra's constant proposals…

He glanced sidelong at Cassian, who seemed busy scrutinizing a Chinese print on the wall, and pulled a towel into the bath while he was distracted. He just…felt so vulnerable around Cassian recently. Exposed and raw…he didn't think Cassian knew about what he did with Father, but…! But what if he did know? Would he be disgusted? Would he laugh? Or would he want to…?

That would make sense, Jezabel thought. That was what most men wanted to be around him for.

"You sure like all this Oriental stuff," Cassian said in a mocking tone, yet not completely unkind.

Jezabel nodded cautiously. "Yeah…yes. I think it's beautiful, don't you? The light colors with the harsh black, the carvings, the birds and dragons…It's so beautiful and so foreign…"

Cassian kept staring at the painting, one of several tall cranes standing in a rice field, flooded with crystal blue water. "Yeah…it's pretty, I guess," he agreed.

Jezabel felt a glimmer of pride and self-satisfaction at his own taste, even as he readjusted his towel. "Cassian…do you mind? I'd like to wash. I assure you I can be trusted to not eat the soap."

His child-like assistant snorted, but nodded. "I uh…I brought food. Don't let it get cold because I'll make you eat it that way anyway." Without waiting for an answer, he left, but left the door open a crack. Jezabel knew he'd be waiting for hi, to talk about nothing, to sneak more food onto his plate…

Cassian had never harmed him. He was simply a VERY good actor, playing the ever-going role of Pretending to Care, trying to worm, his way in to climb higher in Delilah's ranks. He seemed to think sucking up to Jezabel was the way to do this, as though not hearing Jezabel's long rants on the futility of forced affection, of pretend love, as though he forgot Jezabel knew such things didn't exist…

So if it was nothing but an act…why did he suddenly feel sick at the notion of going out there, where Cassian waited? Jezabel craned his neck to peer out the door, as though expecting Cassian to be standing in the dressing room with his knives drawn, except…what Jezabel feared was something far more terrifying.

Shuddering, suddenly feeling his body shaking, he pulled his hair over his shoulder, and poured a dribble of soap over the ends, to wash. He nearly dropped the glass bottle in the water as his fingers quivered. What if he stalled, he thought? What if he took too long and Cassian just went away?!

…No. He wouldn't do that, he said to himself. He'd storm back in here, and drag him out of the tub.

He felt sick. The idea of Cassian seeing him right now, of his hands on him twisted his stomach. Swallowing harshly, Jezabel willed himself to stay calm. If he was ill, he'd have nothing but bile to gag on and burn his throat.

This was ridiculous, he tried to tell himself. He rinsed his hair out, watching the little bubbles slide down his blonde streaks. Cassian was just a…well, he wasn't a boy. He was older than Jezabel, by nearly 10 years, but he had a child's body, the physique of an 11 year old. Such…ideas…surely never crossed his mind. And even if they did, Jezabel was larger and stronger than he was. Surely he could defend himself against a dwarf!

…The water was growing cold, and goosebumps crawled across Jezabel's exposed skin. From the chill or from his anxiety, he wasn't sure, but he was taking too long...Cassian would worry…he'd wonder what was taking Jezabel so long.

With a gulp, he pulled the plug, watching the water swirl down…it was almost pretty, pale, glassy pink, streaked with suds…he sat there even after the tub was drained, feeling so heavy, as though he too were being pulled down with the water.

"Jezabel?" a voice called from two rooms over. "You ok?"

"Inpatient ass…'M fine!" he called back quickly, grabbing another towel from the cabinet aside the tub. He squeezed his hair dry,, toweled himself off quickly and nearly fell on the slick floor as he scrambled for his bathrobe, not feeling safe, even alone, until he was covered. Only then did he step out of the bathroom and grab a nightgown and drawers from his dressing room. Where Cassian sat waiting for him. Behind him in his bedroom Jezabel would see a tray with sandwiches, tea, and some form of stew…it smelled nice.

"It's cold," Cassian sneered. "You're still eating it. I don't care if it gets congealed. I carried that whole fucking thing up here!"

Jezabel rolled his eyes at Cassians act…for it had to be an act, right? If it wasn't…

As Cassian continued to complain, he all but ran behind a changing screen to pull his nightgown on.

"-and if I have to- Hey…kid? You ok?"

Jezabel tied to drawstring on his drawers quickly; he was starting to loose his patience tonight. He was NOT a pleasant person to be around normally, but after tonight…he was always short fused after Alexis…"I'm fine."

I'm…fine. I'm always fine, I'm…

I'm so scared.

)o(

Jezabel avoided his bed, and sat them at his small writing desk instead. Cassian seemed to make do without a table anyway, simply folding his small legs and nesting his bowl on his lap. Jezabel ate the carrots and barley and corn but tried to avoid the chunks of beef floating among the gravy. The flavor was bad enough without having to CHEW it. He wasn't hungry. He rarely ever was, but tonight he just wanted to be alone, read something, kick Cassian out…but he knew the brat. The more he fought him, the more he shoved him away, the closer he was bury his way in. He saw through Jezabel's lies almost as easily as Father did. Every time Jezabel murmured he was fine, nothing was wrong, everything was fine, he could see the complete disbelief in Cassian's small, dark eyes. It was easy to forget he was older, and therefor on some levels simply Knew Better than Jezabel did. It irked him and made his skin crawl, to know this uneducated street child had that spark of wisdom every other man seemed to have. Jezabel use to wonder when he would reach that level of wisdom, but had long ago come to accept he just wans't like others, not as apt as other men, especially Father.

Usually, though, it was only his superiors he felt this from, not an apprentice he was sure was functionally illiterate…and rude, he added to himself, as Cassian slurped the last of his stew.  
"Urchin," he said under his breath with a disgusted sneer, and nibbled the corner of a sandwhich. He knew Cassian heard him, but would do little in retaliation. Even if it was all fake, there was something comfortable about their nearly violent banter. Or at least, there usually was. Jezabel's anxiety was spiked tonight. He kept looking up at Cassian, startled by every forward movement, by every gesture towards him, afraid he would reach out and touch…!

Cassian wolfed down his own sandwich, so quickly Jezabel wondered if he even knew what sort it was. He supposed the way Cassian grew up, you ate when you had it before someone else could take it from you…

"At least I eat," he grumbles, looking at Jezabel's thin arm, and how tight he has his robe tied around his waist.

Jezabel felt his eyes on him, and wanted to recoil. Cassandra always made comments about how thin he was…pretty and thin, but not enough for his tastes. He wanted a waif…said a corset might…

"I mean look at your wrists. You're not emaciated, just underweight, and in a house like this?! If you ate a little more you'd be heal-"

CRASH!

The shattering or chine filled the other wise quiet room. Jezabel Had finally recoiled, violently, as Cassian reached forward to look at his thin arm, and Jezabel panicked.

"Don't' TOUCH me!" he shrieked, high and shrill and with wild eyes. "Please...please Cassian, don't…don't' touch me! Stop looking…please.."

Cassian just sat there, looking between Jezabel, now holding himself and doubling over near the corner, and the shards of plate left scattered across the floor.

"Oh…ok, I'm sorry?" Cassian stammers, trying to not startle Jezabel any further. "I…did you cut yourself? You knocked everything back pretty hard…"

"N...no! I'm fine," Jezabel insists, though he felt ready to throw up again, and struggled to swallow, to keep down his dinner. "Cassian, I'm fine…just GO!"

But Cassian stood there. He watched his boss curl further and further into himself, sliding down the wall until finally he had to look UP to see Cassian…until finally he felt like the child Cassian always said he was. A child…a boy…he felt like that right now. Who but a child, uneducated and knowing no better would feel the way he did, so fearful over something so…?

…"I'm not leaving," he finally heard Cassian say hesitantly, softly. I'm not about to leave you here alone, ok? I'm not leaving."

That was the wrong thing to say, though. Of…of course he wouldn't leave, Jezabel thought with a near laugh! He was here for a reason, wasn't he? The same reason anyone was ever kind to him. The reasons Father would hold him and hug him and tell him he was loved…

"Cassian, please, I…! I…" he gulped, shaking. "I'll do whatever you want, but later, please? Not…not tonight? Please…tomorrow, I will, but I hurt right now and I don't feel well but if you want we can…t…tomorrow…"

The air hung still between them, as Jezabel tried to grapple in his emotions, and Cassian tried to sort out what Jezabel was going on about. Already he wished fervently he could recapture his words, tie them back into a bundle and hide them; pretend he hadn't made that offer. It was the last thing in the WORLD he wanted to do, and especially with Cassian looking as he did it would feel so WRONG and just…wrong, and too much like what Father did to him, when he was as young as Cassian looked…!

"…Jezabel?" his voice cur softly through the whirlwind fo his thoughts. "Jezabel…what did you say? What did you…mean?"

Oh God damn it, Jezabel swore to himself, gritting his teeth! Was he so dense? Did his sort only understand physical compulsions, touch? Wouldn't surprise him…maybe that would make it easier. No silly words, no pretending it was a romance, no telling pretty lies of normalcy, just getting to it…

No, no, that idea brought acid to the back of Jezabel's throat just as much. Besides, Cassian seemed to buy into the notions of love like everyone else did…clenching his eyes, Jezabel cursed to himself. He knew Father was the only one who loved him, and Father was the only one he loved, but he assumed Cassian understood the world the same as he did! That apart from such a rare exception as the undying devotion he had to Father, love and affection were pretty lies, a grand show the entire world put on for one another, only the foolish believing the show was real! Could Cassian be stupid enough to believe he "loved" Jezabel? Idiot!

Cassian tried again, gently. "Jezabel? What are you trying to offer me…?" When nothing followed but silence, he kneeled down, still over a meter away, but leaning a little closer.

"Jezabel…Jezzy? Did you mean…like what your father does to you?"

The question settled slowly between them like dust falling to the floor, slow, in pieces, and suffocating.

"What…what do you mean…what my father does to me?" Jezabel finally asked, each word solid and deliberate.

Cassian shifted a moment, but his jaw was set. "I know what Alexis does to you," he whispers, as though there were others around to hear. "I know. I've seen how he touches you, I've seen you come out of his room late at night, I've heard what he says to you, about you."

"I…I see," Jezabel says imply, unsure how to react. He supposes it was no secret. It's only supposedly "not ok" because Alexis is his father, so…Cassian knowing isn't a big deal, right? He should know…deserves to know…But if that was true why did he suddenly feel so ripped open, even more exposed?

"…Yes, then. That. I can't tonight, Cassian, please, but if you want to tomorrow I could…we…"

"Jezabel you say one more word and I will slap the shit out of you."

Jezabel hiccups, and looks up at Cassian through his bangs hesitantly…he doesn't want that, either, and if he didn't know better he'd swear Cassian looks almost guilty for having said it.

"Jezabel…don't offer me that," he says pleadingly. "Don't you dare ask me if that's what I want from you."

the doctor continued to stare evenly at Cassian, clinging his nightgown close around him. He didn't trust himself to speak right now, but Cassian seemed ready to chatter away.

"You're shaking…you have to be cold," he insists. "I can add wood to the fire, or get you a blanket or another robe…or are you shaking because you're scared? …Jezzy?"

Jezabel just shook his head in a non answer, but wouldn't' tear his eyes away…he felt as though looking away was dangerous. As though Cassian were dangerous.

"Okay…well, here…the uh…the tea is still hot, and there's honey...that's show you like it right? Just a bit of honey? Yeah? Here." Cassian busies himself in stirring a spoonful of honey into a steaming teacup, waiting for it to dissolve. "See? Here…here you are…"

Jezabel tensed, still shaky, but took the tea from Cassian, wanting something to calm his frazzled nerves…something to distract his hands. He watched Cassian make a cup for himself and sit again, still just out of reach from Jezabel.

Silently the two sipped their tea, neither willing to be the one to breech the quiet, to puncture it with words that might just make everything worse. But as five minutes went into ten, and a quarter hour, Cassian couldn't legitimize just sitting there anymore.

"Jezabel…are you ok? Are you feeling any better?" he ventured, and breathed a sigh of relief when Jezabel nodded a bit.

"I…I'm sorry, he murmured. "I'm very tired, and I spoke without thinking…I don't know what came over me."

Cassian returned the nod, wishing there was something stronger in his tea cup. "Right...ok…you were with Alexis tonight, then."

It wasn't a question. Jezabel knew that tone well, and knew he couldn't lie now.

"I was," he admitted simply, and tried to square his shoulders a bit, hold his head higher. Tried to scrape together a shred of dignity about the fact that his father was raping him. "It's nothing. It isn't anything to be upset about…I'm use to this."

"But you can't be ok with it!" Cassian cried out, obviously thinning that the gentle way be damned!

Jezabel grit his teeth again, and fiddled idly with his empty tea cup. He sort of wished for another drink, but didn't have the will to get up to pour it. "Of course I don't," he ground out. "How could ANYONE?"

"They couldn't," Cassian agreed, and Jezabel saw a flicker of relief go across his face…that bastard really wasn't sure if he was going to say he enjoyed his time with father?!

"You sound almost surprised," Jezabel quips. His lips are pursed thin, his instincts starting to over-ride his fear and panic. He didn't like when people assumed things about him, or were accusatory about him. "You sound as though you're trying to bait me along the "right" things to say."

Cassian's brown eyes narrowed a bit. "Jezabel, don't' start this, please? I'm trying. I…I want to help you, alright? That's all. What your father does to you is wrong…I mean, EVERYTHING your father does is wrong, but this is especially not okay…"

"Don't you think I know that?" Jezabel sneers. His patience was fast running out. "It's bad enough to know this is going on, but now we have to dance around the subject as though I'm a frail flower?"

"Awful strong words for someone who had a breakdown tantrum twenty minutes ago," Cassian throws back in a beat, ready to rise to whatever spitting war his boss can drudge up. "But fine. You want me to just strike in? How long have you been warming daddy's bed?"

"Since I was 13," Jezabel said, and his deep eyes glowered at Cassian as though daring him to act shocked, to be disgusted, but he was steeling himself. That, or he was used to hearing such horrors. "Since I was thirteen, and it's been intermittent since. Sometimes every month, sometimes not once a whole year."

"And you've never told anyone?"

Jezabel laughs in a sharp, barking tone, so sudden it makes Cassian jump. "Tell? Who would I tell? Mommy dearest in a jar? Should I have gone to the police so they could lock us BOTH up for sodomy? Did you tell anyone the ringmaster was whipping you?" When he failed to respond, Jezabel found his stride. "I don't want your pity, Cassian. You don't need to fake that around me. I'm not stupid, I don't fall for false words."

"You seem to believe Alexis every time he says he loves you," Cassian shot back with venom

"Father DOES love me!"

Cassian chuckled darkly. "Right, right, that's why he rip[s the skin off your back, calls you a hideous beast and beds you like a whore!"

Jezabel's eyes narrowed to slits, and he pulled his lips back as though ready to growl at his assistant, ready to snarl. "I'm not WHORE," he snaps! "Father DOES love me, that's WHY he takes me to bed!"

Cassian sat there, an arms reach from Jezabel now, and stared. "You are so insane," he barely breathed, shaking his head. "You really believe that? That Alexis rapes you because he loves you?"

Jezabel's hair begins to tangle as he tosses it over his shoulder. "It's not rape," he says through a locked jaw. "It's NOT the same thing, don't try to equate my father to something like that!"

"But you just SAID two minutes ago-"

"DO NOT," Jezabel repeats, "say that!". He's panting as he fights with his hair again, beginning to grow damp again from sweat. "My…my father loves me, and I put up with …what we do because it's an act of love."

"…so does Cassandra love you, then?"

The fire seemed to go out in Jezabel's eyes then, and his body recoils in on itself. "Cassandra hasn't had me," he whispers firmly.

"No," Cassian agreed, but he wants you, doesn't he? …you won't look at me, so I'm guessing that's a yes. EVERYONE knows this, Jezzy. He…He's not exactly quiet about it."

Jezabel doesn't respond right away. He sits there, sifting through his thoughts, lavender eyes clenched tightly. No, no, that's not the same. It isn't the same thing at ALL. Father loves him. It's an act of love. That's what Father said…that disgusting dance of touch and caress and kiss and…God he feels sick.

"…Jezzy," Cassian tries again after a moment. "Come on. If Father does it because it's love, why does Cassandra want you? How can you excuse what Alexis does?"

"Well, it's the same thing you want, isn't it?" Jezabel shoots back accusatory. He wants the spotlight on Cassian, wants him to be the one struggling through awkward questions and a tangle of li-

"No."

-lies.

"Jezabel, I came here tonight to check on you and bring you food. Sleeping with you is beyond the last thing I have on my mind right now."

Jezabel continued to think, thoughts whirling around furiously, trying to make sense of this in any other way than the simplest.

"You're lying," he says in a deadpan. "You came here to try and show how much you "love" me so you could take me."

Cassian looked more and more disgusted. "You think I'm some kind of rapist?" he demands.

"No, I think you want to have sex with me!" Jezabel corrects, and Cassian stares at him in confusion.

"You say that as though what I said is somehow not the worst option here?" he prods, lost, his small body animated with his lack of understanding and frustration. "How is me wanting to have sex with you- which I don't, by the way, somehow comparable to wanting to rape you, which I ALSO don't want to do?"

"It's the same thing," Jezabel sighs, growing weary of this entire conversation. Argument. Whatever it had devolved into.

"….Now hold on. You said what Alexis does isn't "rape" it's an act of "love" so how the fuck is there a differe-"

"Can you just leave?" Jezabel shouts, slamming his cup back on he tray so hard Cassian's surprised it too didn't shatter.

"…No," Cassian replies. "I don't trust you alone right now, so we can just continue our little chat!"

Jezabel's eyes flicked over to his dresser, where he knew there was a small knife, and a scalpel…he could, couldn't he? He could…he's fast enough, and he doesn't think Cassian is armed…but then what's keeping his feet rooted there?

"Come on," Cassian challenges, trying to provoke Jezabel further. "What is the difference? Maybe you do want what your father does? Is that the difference? You're shaking your head…ok. Is it different because you want to have sex with me?"

"NO! GOD no!" Jezabel spits, a look of disgust distorting his ordinarily pretty face.

Cassian relaxes his stance a bit, relieved. "Ok. Then WHAT IS IT? Why do you equate what Father does with what you thought I wanted to do, yet then claim what Alexis does is lovemaking? I know you're fucking crazy but this doesn't make sense even for an obsessive stalker like you!"

"Because it FEELS the same God damn it!" Jezabel screams. "Is that simple enough? I'm no blushing virgin, Cassian. I flirted enough when I was 16, 17. I knew what Father offered me was love but I HATED it! I hated how his hands felt on me, I hated how it hurt, but I thought it was just what he liked, that he was like Cassandra and was doing something to make it so I wouldn't go off with someone else, so he could keep me to himself! And I didn't WANT to be with anyone else! I belonged to father-"

"You don't belong to anyone," Cassian tries to interject, but Jezabel bowled him over.

"But when I was 16 I was angry. The only love I knew was father, and the warmth I found with blood, with killing. But I thought if I found someone else who would "Love" me, I'd be happier. But I wasn't; I HATED it, Cassian. It felt…dirty, and wrong, and no different than what Father does. It felt like…like being raped. I just wanted their hands off me…I killed them both."

Cassian stood before him, barley reaching his chest, listening to his screaming tirade, and waiting for him to calm down, for a chance to speak.

"I…Okay…" he begins shakily, unsure of where it's even his place to speak. "But…Jezabel, that's just…not how it is, ok? Your father ought to burn in hell for what he's done ot you, and with…with people you barely know, it might now be…ah…"

Jezabel chuckles. "Going to give me a wedding night char before you seduce me?"

"Jesus Christ Jezabel, why do you think I wanna screw you? You think I have a thing for skinny, whiny blondes?"

"Well you're always here!" Jezabel accuses angrily. "You putter around me and say you care and say you're just worried. You say you feel all that and you don't want that?"

"And is that REALLY so hard for you to understand?" Cassian demands of his companion? When he's met with a blank, even stare, he softens his tone. "You…you really don't understand that…" he realizes. Jezabel shrugs.

"Seems simple to me," he says. He pulls a lock of hair of his shoulder, trying to undo his knots. "It's how you offer your love to someone," he begins, and Cassian's sure he's quoting some garbage his father taught him. "If you "love" someone, you bed them. Simple."

Cassian's mouth hung open, appraising Jezabel, as though waiting for him to cut the sarcasm, but he seemed to be sticking to his story.

"Jezabel…you don't have to be in love by any stretch of the meaning to fuck, and just because you love someone, doesn't mean you're going to. Even if we're talking about proper social conventions what you're saying is bullshit. How many actually marry for love? Or what about friends who love each other, or parents? …MOST parents? Is your world really so black and white?"

And judging by the look of confusion on Jezabel's face, Cassian would have to gather that it was.

"Jezabel...you do realize that don't you? That loving someone doesn't mean you…you know…LOVE them?"

"You know, Cassian, I think we've invaded one another's personal affairs more than enough for one nigh-

"Would you fail to believe I loved you if I didn't have sex with you?"

That got Jezabel's attention, and he looked at Cassian as though he were a particularly bothersome fly he was ready to swat.

"And would you, Mr. Cassian, claim to "love" me and look at me and honestly say to yourself that you do not wish to possess me?"

Without a bit of hesitation Cassian said, "Yes. Because there's more than one way to love someone, Jezabel. Like the way a father is suppose to love his son. And that love was never meant to involve sex."

Jezabel held Cassian's gaze evenly, though Cassian could see something working, cogs turning and trying to understand this.

"You don't even really understand what it's like to be loved by someone unconditionally, Jezabel. Not as a lover, or a father, or a…a friend. I can't expect you to understand the differences between each, I suppose."

With that, he picked up the tea tray, and turned to leave, valuing his life and now fearing for it.

"…All I understand, Cassian," Jezabel's voice is barely loud enough to reach his ears as he approached the door, "Is that I hate what Father does. I know I hate the way he touches me, and Cassandra, the others…"

Cassian sets the tray down, to give Jezabel his full attention. He's stopped clutching his nightgown…he's stopped messing with his hair, stopped picking at his nails.

"I…I feel sick watching couples courting. Kissing, touching one another, It just…it's repulsive, to me."

"Not…not everyone feels that way," Cassian ventures delicately. "Most of those people aren't hurting like you are. You don't need to feel upset for them-"

"I am NOT upset for them!" Jezabel snarls. "I could care less about others or their passions. I simply don't GET it. It's dirty, and it's repulsive, foul and messy and painful-"

"Not for everyone-"

"And I would prefer to not have to endure such a thing!"

"And you shouldn't have to!" Cassian affirms. "You shouldn't! But what's happened to you isn't the same…If you were….you know…willing, with someone you wanted to be with…you might not…?

But Jezabel looked ready to throw up. "No. I KNOW what it's supposed to be Cassian. I know it's supposed to be enjoyable, and fun and all those sorts of things but it's NOT for me! Just the thought makes me hurt, makes me feel…wrong."

"Well that's just because of what Alexi-"

"I don't care WHY I feel that way, Cassian, I just DO!" And for a moment Cassian thought Jezabel might cry, he seemed so upset. "I don't get it, ok? Even if those people claim to love one another HALF as much as I love my father, I don't understand how they could…do that to each other. And I look at you, who claims to care for me, and I don't believe you could offer such a charade for me without being paid back. You…your body is young. You wouldn't know, I suppose. But if you had a man's body, an adults, you would be like all the rest-"

"Even if I was in the body I was meant to have, I wouldn't be raping you or, since it's all the same to you, trying to bed you," Cassian defends himself. "I stay up with you to stitch your wounds closed because I care for you. I bring you food, I stay with you all day, I wait outside for you to get away from your father, I offer anything you need because GOD FORBID someone offers you the love your father was SUPPOSE to give you, and that does NOT involve having sex with my kid!"

…that dust-like silence fell between them heavier than ever. Neither Cassian nor Jezabel wanting to touch on Cassian's last words, neither able to fully understand them.

…"You should get to bed, Jezzy," Cassian finally says. "I'll clean up the plate. Just…get some sleep. WE have a party tomorrow, remember?"

Jezabel suddenly became a man of few words as he nodded, and went to turn down his bed, shaken and wondering if he'd sleep at all that night.

Cassian swept up the shards, glad they didn't splinter, and piled them on the meal tray along with the kettle, teacups and remaining bowl. He wrestled the door open, and nudged his way through. Before closing it behind him, he paused a moment.

"I suppose it fits you, Disraeli. You hate life too much to be able to understand what creates it. Maybe someday when you don't want to kill yourself you'll understand…"

But their eyes met for a moment before Jezabel crawled into bed, and they both knew that wouldn't happen. Even if Jezabel made it through the next year, the next five years…he was too broken of a man. Too wounded, too scarred…but maybe that was alright.

Jezabel was just a boy, after all, and probably always would be. Little boys didn't need to understand such things. They just needed to understand that…they were loved. 


End file.
